If looks could handcuff…
Press Conference
Seoul Metropolitan Police Headquarters
Date: November 12, 2024
Time: 7:00 AM
[The screen opens to a live broadcast of the Seoul Metropolitan Police’s press conference. The room is packed with reporters, their murmurs creating an undercurrent of noise. Camera flashes punctuate the air as Jeon Jungkook, dressed in a sharp navy suit with a polished badge pinned to his lapel, steps up to the podium. He adjusts the microphone, his face composed but taut with tension. Next to him sits Captain Park, an older man with salt-and-pepper hair and a broad-shouldered frame that commands respect. His face is impassive, but his sharp eyes scan the room, exuding authority. A large banner behind him reads Seoul Metropolitan Police Department—Working for Your Safety.]
Jungkook:
“Good morning. My name is Detective Jeon Jungkook, lead investigator on the incident currently unfolding at Lotte World Tower. First, I want to assure the public and the families of those involved that every available resource is being utilized to resolve this situation safely and efficiently.
As many of you are aware, at approximately 5:15 PM on November 11, a group of unidentified individuals in traditional Hahoetal masks infiltrated a private wedding at the Lotte World Tower, taking all attendees hostage. Since then, the suspects have used a series of live broadcasts to reveal sensitive information about various individuals in attendance. These actions are calculated, deliberate, and designed to provoke fear and chaos.
Our team has been working around the clock to assess the situation, prioritize the safety of the hostages, and bring those responsible to justice. Due to the sensitive nature of this investigation, I will not be discussing specific tactical measures or operational strategies. However, I am here to address your questions and provide as much clarity as possible.”
[The camera cuts to the crowd of reporters, their hands shooting up eagerly. Jungkook points to a woman in a red blazer in the front row.]
Reporter 1:
“Detective Jeon, it’s been over 12 hours since the incident began. Many are questioning why the police have not yet made any moves to intervene. Are you waiting for something specific, or is this a sign of hesitation?”
Jungkook:
[His expression tightens slightly, but his tone remains calm.]
“Our approach is guided by one overriding priority: the safety of the hostages. This is a highly volatile situation, and any premature action could endanger lives. The suspects have demonstrated not only careful planning but also a willingness to escalate. As such, patience and precision are our best tools at this time.”
Reporter 2:
[Interrupting loudly.]
“But isn’t this delay allowing the kidnappers to gain more control over the narrative? The public sees the livestreams—they don’t see you doing anything.”
Jungkook:
[He leans slightly forward, his gaze direct and unyielding.]
“The public sees what the kidnappers want them to see. What they don’t see is the extensive coordination happening behind the scenes. I assure you, this is not a delay—it’s a deliberate effort to secure the best possible outcome. Reckless action isn’t strength; it’s weakness disguised as bravery. We won’t risk lives for appearances.”
[The room murmurs, some reporters jotting notes while others whisper among themselves. Jungkook straightens, motioning to another journalist.]
Reporter 3:
“Detective Jeon, there are rumors circulating that this could be connected to organized crime or even international terrorism. Can you confirm or deny this?”
Jeon Jungkook:
“At this time, we have no evidence to support those claims. However, we are investigating all possibilities, including any connections that might point to coordinated efforts. What’s important is that we remain focused on gathering facts rather than chasing speculation.”
[The camera cuts back to Jungkook. He sits upright, his posture rigid but not stiff. His dark eyes sweep the room, challenging anyone to interrupt him. A wiry man with a comb-over leans forward, his voice cutting through the brief lull.]
Reporter 4:
“There are reports that the police have yet to make meaningful contact with the suspects. Isn’t that a failure on your part?”
[The camera zooms slightly on Jungkook’s face as his expression tightens. He doesn’t flinch, but his jaw ticks ever so slightly before he responds.]
Jeon Jungkook:
“Negotiating with individuals who’ve taken hostages is a delicate and highly complex process. Establishing communication requires time, strategy, and careful consideration. Our priority is the safety of every hostage. Anything less would be reckless.”
[The camera pans to Captain Park, who offers a slow, deliberate nod of approval before leaning back in his chair. A shrill voice from the middle of the crowd interrupts the moment.]
Reporter 5:
“Detective Jeon, is it true your brother was convicted of robbery? How do you respond to claims that this creates a conflict of interest?”
[The room falls into a hush. The camera zooms in on Jungkook’s face as his lips press into a thin line. After a moment, he leans into the microphone.]
Jeon Jungkook:
“My personal life has no bearing on this investigation. If anyone here would like to discuss the hostages and suspects rather than my family history, I’m happy to answer your questions. Otherwise, let’s not waste each other’s time.”
[The silence is palpable. The camera pans to the reporter, who sinks slightly in her seat, avoiding eye contact. Jungkook shifts in his chair, clearly ready to move on.]
Jeon Jungkook:
“Next question.”
[A voice from the back of the room breaks the tension.]
Reporter 6:
“Captain Park mentioned earlier that the investigation is expanding to possible accomplices outside the tower. Can you elaborate on what that involves?”
Jeon Jungkook:
“Yes. While the suspects are currently inside the tower, we are actively investigating any external connections they may have. This includes reviewing security footage, analyzing unusual activity in the surrounding area, and vetting individuals with access to the tower. Every lead, no matter how small, is being pursued.”
Reporter 7:
“Detective Jeon, isn’t it true that the suspects’ success in gaining control of the tower reflects a failure on law enforcement’s part?”
[The camera focuses on Jungkook as he leans back slightly, his dark eyes locking onto the reporter like a predator sizing up its prey.]
Jeon Jungkook:
“Let me be clear: The suspects’ actions were premeditated, coordinated, and unprecedented in scale. The police’s response has been measured and focused on preserving life above all else. If your definition of success involves rushing in recklessly and endangering more lives, I suggest you take a refresher course in ethics.”
[Captain Park lets out a low grunt of approval, folding his arms across his broad chest. The camera briefly cuts to him before returning to Jungkook, who’s now scanning the room for the next question.]
Reporter 8:
“Detective Jeon, do you believe the suspects are watching this press conference right now? And if so, what would you say to them?”
Jungkook:
[His eyes harden, his voice taking on an edge of quiet authority.]
“If they’re watching, then I’ll say this: your theatrics won’t protect you forever. You may think you’re in control, but you’ve underestimated the resilience of this city and its people. We will find you. And when we do, there will be no masks left to hide behind.”
[The screen cuts to a wider shot of the room, showing the palpable tension as journalists scramble to have their voices heard. Captain Park finally raises a hand, his deep voice cutting through the noise.]
Captain Park:
“That’s enough for today. Detective Jeon and his team have work to do. Thank you for your questions.”
[The room erupts in protest, but the camera follows Jungkook as he rises, adjusts his blazer, and strides off the platform without a backward glance. The screen fades to black, leaving the faint echoes of dissatisfied reporters in its wake.]
*******
Taehyung - Seonsaengnim
The glow of the TV screen bathed the dim apartment in shifting blue and white light, painting Taehyung’s face with a surreal pallor. He sat perched on the armrest of his tattered sofa, elbows on his knees, chin resting in his palms. The faint hum of the city buzzed outside the cracked window, but all his attention was riveted on the television.
On the screen, Detective Jeon Jungkook stood at a podium, the epitome of law enforcement perfection: navy suit tailored to within an inch of its life, jaw sharp enough to cut through tension, and eyes boring into the camera with a ferocity that had Taehyung raising an amused brow.
“Would you look at him?” Taehyung muttered, his lips curling into a grin that was equal parts entertained and impressed. “Detective Golden Boy, huh? How noble.”
Jungkook’s voice came through the speakers, firm and resolute as he addressed the reporters, swatting their provocative questions like flies. Taehyung tilted his head, studying him like a painter might a blank canvas. The last time he’d seen Jungkook, the younger man had been decked out in a tight black shirt, looking every bit the composed police detective.
And yet here he was now, tearing through a room of seasoned reporters with the precision of a scalpel. The confidence of Jungkook during the conference was startling—and, annoyingly, a little intriguing.
“Did he practice that glare in front of a mirror?” Taehyung mused, grabbing his morning tea from the coffee table. He swirled the hot liquid lazily before taking a sip. “Or is that just natural talent? Either way, I gotta give it to you, Detective—you’re playing the part beautifully.”
The camera zoomed in on Jungkook’s face as a particularly brash reporter tried to trip him up with a question about the hostages. Taehyung’s gaze lingered, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.
“Those cheekbones could cut glass,” he murmured, barely audible even to himself. Then he froze, a look of mock horror spreading across his face. “Oh, no. Am I… complimenting a cop?” He slapped his forehead theatrically, letting out a bark of laughter. “Get it together, Taehyung.’”
Still, he couldn’t help but lean forward slightly, elbows pressing into his thighs as Jungkook fielded another aggressive question. His tone was measured, his words chosen with surgical precision. Every answer was a verbal chess move, and Taehyung found himself nodding appreciatively.
“Smart,” he muttered, his smirk deepening. “Not smart enough, but… close. I’ll give you a B+. You’d do great in my class.”
Watching Jungkook work the room, Taehyung felt an odd mix of amusement and challenge. It wasn’t just that Jungkook was competent; it was the way he carried himself, like a wolf prowling through a den of foxes. The confidence, the intensity—it was… distracting.
“Too bad you’re on the wrong side, Detective,” Taehyung said, setting the mug down with a clink. “You’d be fun to have on the team. Hell, you’d probably outshine half of them. But then again…” His eyes narrowed, and his grin turned wicked. “Where’s the fun in that? Watching you squirm is way more entertaining.”
The press conference continued, Jungkook delivering a particularly cutting response to a reporter questioning the police’s lack of action. Taehyung clapped slowly, the sound echoing in the small apartment.
“Bravo, Jeon. You’ve got the reporters eating out of the palm of your hand.” He chuckled, shaking his head. “But let’s see how long you can keep this up before you crack. Everyone has a breaking point, Detective. Even you.”
He leaned back, stretching out on the couch and propping his feet up on the coffee table. His gaze flicked to the ceiling, his mind already racing with new possibilities. Jungkook wasn’t just competent—he was dangerous. The kind of dangerous that made Taehyung’s blood hum with excitement.
And yet, there was something undeniably endearing about him, too. Maybe it was the rigid posture, the tightly wound professionalism, or the way he looked like he hadn’t slept in twenty-four hours but still managed to shine under the harsh glare of the cameras.
Taehyung’s grin softened for just a moment before he caught himself. He sat up abruptly, shaking his head as if to dislodge the thought.
“Alright, Taehyung,” he said aloud, his tone dry and self-mocking. “Enough admiring the enemy. Focus.”
But even as he turned his attention back to the TV, his mind lingered on the Detective for just a beat too long. There was something about Jungkook—something unyielding, something magnetic.
“Too bad you’re on the other side of the chessboard,” Taehyung murmured, his voice laced with amusement. “You’d make a hell of a partner. Or a rival. Guess we’ll find out which one soon enough.”
As the press conference ended and the screen faded to black, Taehyung stood, stretching his arms over his head. The city outside was still alive, still buzzing with the energy of a thousand stories unfolding all at once.
Taehyung’s grin didn’t waver as he dialed the police tent’s secure line, leaning back in his chair with the casual ease of a man making a prank call. His thumb tapped rhythmically against the phone’s casing, his mind replaying Jungkook’s press conference performance like an art critic dissecting a masterpiece.
The line clicked, and a familiar voice answered, low and clipped with irritation. “This is Detective Jeon.”
“Ah, Detective Golden Boy,” Taehyung drawled, his tone laced with mockery. “Fresh from your press conference debut, huh? Navy really is your color, by the way. Very commanding. Though…” He paused, tapping his chin theatrically as if Jungkook could see it. “A little predictable. Maybe spice it up next time—go for a burgundy suit, something daring. It’ll do wonders for your complexion.”
On the other end, Jungkook didn’t bite. His voice was calm, steady, and annoyingly unaffected. “Do you have a point, or are you just calling to critique my wardrobe?”
Taehyung’s grin widened, his chest warming with a mixture of amusement and something less easy to name. “Oh, somebody’s grumpy. Long night?”
“Cut the crap,” Jungkook snapped. “What do you want?”
Taehyung chuckled. “Fine, fine. Business it is. I need to speak with Lee Jaesun.”
There was a pause—just a fraction too long. Jungkook’s voice returned, edged with suspicion. “Lee Jaesun? The groom’s brother? He went home last night. Why do you need him?”
Taehyung’s eyebrows lifted. “Home? Tsk, tsk. That’s too bad. I had plans for him. Big plans. Guess you’ll just have to bring him back. You know, like a good boy.”
The sound of Jungkook’s sharp inhale was a small victory. “You’re out of your damn mind if you think I’m going to—”
“Detective,” Taehyung interrupted, his voice soft but commanding, a blade sheathed in silk. “This isn’t a negotiation. I want Lee Jaesun in that tent, waiting like the obedient little pawn he is. Can you manage that, or is your dazzling press conference persona all for show?”
There was a beat of silence, and Taehyung could practically hear Jungkook grinding his teeth. Finally, the younger man spoke, his tone tight with resignation. “Fine. I’ll see what I can do.”
“Atta boy.” Taehyung’s smirk deepened. “And don’t worry. I’ll make it worth your while. In fact, our next little broadcast is about to go live. Consider it my version of a press conference—a much juicier one, I promise.”
“You bastard,” Jungkook growled, but before he could say more, Taehyung ended the call with a soft, satisfied click.
He set the phone down and leaned back, his smirk fading into something more contemplative.
Why had he asked for Lee Jaesun? He didn’t need to be at the tent—after all, he was Lee Jaesun. But there was something about having Jungkook jump through that hoop, something about hearing the detective’s controlled irritation, that scratched an itch Taehyung couldn’t quite place.
It’s strategy, he told himself. Being on-site keeps me in the loop. That’s all it is.
But deep down, he knew that wasn’t the full truth. It was the way Jungkook’s voice dropped an octave when he was frustrated, the way his composure cracked ever so slightly when pushed. It was the thought of those sharp eyes narrowing in irritation, of that quiet fury simmering just beneath the surface.
Taehyung ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply.
“Focus, Taehyung,” he muttered. But his thoughts lingered, the image of Jungkook in his tailored navy suit flashing in his mind. The press conference hadn’t just been a show of competence—it had been a reminder of the detective’s unrelenting resolve, the kind of strength that made Taehyung’s blood hum in a way he refused to analyze.
“Game on, Jungkookie,” he murmured. “Let’s see who breaks first.”
*******
Jungkook
Jungkook stared at his phone screen, where the call with Seonsaengnim had ended mere moments ago. His jaw tightened as the lingering sound of that smooth, taunting voice echoed in his head. The urge to slam his fist into the table was almost unbearable, but he restrained himself—barely.
“Unbelievable,” he muttered through clenched teeth. “The audacity of this guy.”
Across the tent, Captain Park and Seokjin exchanged glances. They’d learned by now to let Jungkook vent first before asking questions. Sure enough, Jungkook turned, his eyes flashing with frustration as he pointed his phone like it was Exhibit A.
“He just—he just hung up on me! After calling me ‘a good boy.’” His voice rose, incredulous. “Me!”
Seokjin raised an eyebrow. “Well, you are a bit of a good boy, aren’t you?”
Captain Park suppressed a snort, but Jungkook glared daggers at both of them.
“Not the time,” he snapped. “He’s mocking us. Again. He knows every damn move we make, and now he’s calling shots about the hostages and the bride’s future like this is his personal drama.”
“Isn’t it, though?” Seokjin quipped, earning himself another glare.
Captain Park cleared his throat, stepping in to steer the conversation back on track. “What did he say exactly?”
Jungkook exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair as he recounted the conversation, his voice dripping with frustration. “He wants Lee Jaesun back here. Apparently, he’s got ‘plans’ for him. Whatever that means.”
“Lee Jaesun?” Seokjin frowned. “Didn’t he go home last night?”
“That’s what I told Seonsaengnim,” Jungkook replied. “But he just laughed it off, like it was some minor inconvenience. Said Jaesun should be waiting here ‘like a obedient little pawn.’”
Captain Park leaned against the table, crossing his arms. “He’s testing us, trying to provoke a reaction. Don’t let him get under your skin.”
“Under my skin?” Jungkook barked a laugh, but it lacked humor. “He’s practically living there rent-free. This whole thing—every move he makes—it’s like he’s playing us for sport.”
Seokjin leaned back in his chair, tapping a pen against the table.
“Any updates on that ‘Signal’ he mentioned? The external contact?” Jungkook looked over expectantly, but Seokjin shook his head.
“Nothing yet. The special team’s still analyzing. We’re waiting for their feedback.”
“Great,” Jungkook muttered, sarcasm heavy in his voice. “So we’re still in the dark.”
The tent fell quiet for a moment, the tension palpable. Jungkook leaned back against the edge of the table, his arms crossed as he stared down at the floor. He hated feeling like this—powerless, reactive. It wasn’t how he operated.
Then, like an unwelcome guest, the thought of Lee Jaesun crept back into his mind. He didn’t want to drag the man into this mess again. It was bad enough that his family was already caught in the crossfire of this nightmare.
And yet…
Something about Jaesun stuck with him. The man had a peculiar energy, a presence that Jungkook couldn’t quite put into words. Nervous, quiet, yet somehow magnetic. His deep voice, his sharp wit—it lingered in Jungkook’s memory longer than it should have. Longer than was appropriate, really.
With a frustrated sigh, Jungkook reached into his pocket and pulled out the business card Jaesun had given him during their brief meeting. He stared at it for a moment, his thumb running along the edge of the card as he debated his next move.
“I shouldn’t,” he muttered under his breath. “I shouldn’t call him here just so he can be a pawn in Seonsaengnims game.”
But his fingers were already dialing the number.
The phone rang twice before a voice answered, smooth and deep, like honey dripping over gravel.
“This is Lee Jaesun.”
A shiver ran down Jungkook’s spine, catching him off guard. He straightened instinctively, his voice coming out more clipped than he intended.
“Mr. Lee, this is Detective Jeon Jungkook.”
*******
Taehyung - Seonsaengnim
Taehyung’s phone buzzed on the desk, its vibration slicing through the hushed tension of the dimly lit room. He glanced at the screen, his smirk growing feral as he saw the name: Detective Jeon Jungkook.
He let it buzz twice, savoring the anticipation, before answering.
“This is Lee Jaesun,” he said, his voice trembling just the right amount, like a man on the edge of despair.
“Mr. Lee, this is Detective Jeon Jungkook,” came the clipped, familiar voice.
Ah, Jungkook. Even through the phone, his tone carried authority laced with a hint of tension, as though the man were holding the world together with sheer determination. Taehyung felt the faintest flutter in his chest, one he quickly silenced. Not now. Not when he was about to perform the next act of his little charade.
“Detective Jeon?” Taehyung infused his voice with alarm. “Is there news? Have they—has my family—” He let his voice crack, expertly weaving panic into his words. “Are they okay?”
“They’re still being held,” Jungkook assured him quickly, the stiffness in his tone softening just a little. “No one’s been harmed as far as we know. But…”
The hesitation was delicious. Taehyung let the pause hang, then spoke as if the words were dragged out of him. “But what? Please, Detective, if you know something, just tell me.”
Jungkook cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable. “We… we need you to come back to the police tent.”
Taehyung’s brow furrowed—not in confusion, but in delight. This was it. The moment he’d been waiting for. “Why? I—I don’t understand.”
There was another pause. Taehyung could practically hear Jungkook’s jaw clench. “Seonsaengnim… demanded it.”
The thrill that shot through Taehyung was electric. He bit down on the inside of his cheek to keep the glee out of his voice. Instead, he let out a shaky breath. “I don’t understand why this madman keeps involving me. I’m nobody—I don’t know what he wants!”
His tone was perfect: confused, desperate, and just the right amount of overwhelmed. It was almost too easy to play the role of the distressed older brother.
Jungkook’s voice softened further. “I don’t think this is about who you are, Jaesun. It’s about control. Seonsaengnim thrives on creating chaos, and dragging you into this is just another way for him to get in our heads.”
“Oh God,” Taehyung murmured, his hand gripping the armrest of his chair as if for support. “I—I don’t know if I can do this. My family… my brother… Yejin—” He broke off, breathing heavily.
Jungkook’s voice softened, probably imagining Taehyung curled in a fetal position somewhere. “I understand how difficult this is for you, Jaesun. Believe me, I won’t rest until these criminals are in handcuffs.”
The words struck Taehyung like a thunderclap, his mind veering sharply off-course. Handcuffs?
He could see it—Jungkook’s determined face, his jaw set, eyes dark with purpose as he snapped a pair of cuffs around Taehyung’s wrists. That laser-focused glare, those veiny hands gripping his arms as he—
“Focus,” Taehyung hissed under his breath, shaking the image out of his head.
What the hell is wrong with me?
“Jaesun?” Jungkook’s voice was a little sharper now.
“Ah, y-yes, Detective,” Taehyung stammered, throwing a hand over his mouth to smother the laughter bubbling up. If looks could handcuff…
The sincerity in Jungkook’s voice was almost too much. Taehyung had to turn his head slightly, hiding the wicked smile that threatened to ruin his façade. He took a deep, shuddering breath. “Thank you, Detective. Truly. I just—I need to stay here for a little while. The kidnappers said their next broadcast is about to start, and I need to know what happens. They said they were going to expose secrets about Yejin…”
Taehyung let his voice waver, as if the thought was too much to bear. “If something happens to her… I’ll come right after the broadcast. I swear.”
Jungkook hesitated. Taehyung could hear the younger man weighing his options, torn between protocol and compassion. Finally, he relented. “That’s understandable. Watch the broadcast, but come immediately after. I’ll arrange for someone to pick you up.”
“Thank you,” Taehyung whispered, his voice full of faux relief. “Really, Detective, thank you. I don’t know what we’d do without you.”
Jungkook didn’t respond immediately, but Taehyung could hear the faintest shift in his breath, almost like he was… flustered? Oh, what a fun development.
“I’ll see you soon,” Jungkook said finally, his tone clipped.
Taehyung nodded, even though Jungkook couldn’t see him. “Of course. I’ll come straight after the broadcast. Please… stay safe, Detective.”
There was a brief silence, and then the line disconnected.
Taehyung set the phone down, exhaling in a long, shuddering sigh as the grin he’d been suppressing finally broke free.
“Stay safe,” he muttered to himself, shaking his head. “Oh, Detective Jeon. If only you knew how dangerous I really am.”
His giddiness bubbled over as he spun in his chair, hands steepled beneath his chin. Everything was proceeding flawlessly—better than flawlessly, really. Jungkook was dancing to his tune without even realizing it, and Taehyung could hardly wait to see how far he could push him.
The thought of Jungkook’s furrowed brows and clenched jaw as he tried to make sense of Seonsaengnim’s demands sent another wave of excitement through Taehyung. He tilted his head, imagining Jungkook pacing in that navy suit, all righteous fury and simmering tension.
Maybe one day, he thought idly, I’ll let him catch me. Just to see what he does with me.
The thought lingered a moment longer than it should have before he shook it off, laughing softly.
“Game on, Golden Boy,” he murmured. “Let’s see how long you can keep up.”
As the countdown to the next livestream ticked on, Taehyung leaned back in his chair, the image of Jungkook’s determined face burned into his mind.
He didn’t just want to win this game—he wanted to savor every moment of it.